Sofa, my sofa

An Ode to my Couch

Oh how I love thee, let me count the ways,

You're tufted, mid-century, sleek, and gray

I found you upon the computer at nightfall

My obsession with Craigslist had finally proved fruitful!

To Junction City I did drive, to retrieve you fair divan

It was a hoarders love at first sight, and into your arms I ran

I creepily stroked you, laid upon your cushy seat

And then I strapped you to a trailer, which was no small feat

I brought you home, admired your shapely figure

Then I searched for an upholsterer to change your color

You went to the seamstress to get a fresh look

Upon thine anticipated return, your picture I took

^^ BEFORE: Woof. It had an awesome shape but was an unfortunate color. ^^

^^ Olive and dismal. But, oh, the potential ...^^

^^ AFTER: Ta-da! It is now a beautiful, simple gray with tight piping and reversible cushions!
The fabric is very durable as well. ^^

^^ A close-up. What the what am I going to do with it? Cover it and put it in storage until I have a home of my own to showcase it in all it's retro glory. ^^

First day of school

I am about to share the obligatory first day of school photos because I am a mom and it is something I said I would do when I signed up for this job.
Plus, like every other mother, I am convinced that my children are, in fact, the most beautiful children ever spawned.
So to deny you these photos would be a gross disservice.
By the way, Ezra went to bed last night a total wreck.
He woke up several times in tears about losing lego pieces and his hurt foot.
Poor baby must have been stressed about starting first grade.
Isn't it funny how kids react when they are stressed or upset?
They lash out or sob hysterically, when really they are just nervous and a little unsettled.
However, once he woke up and had his chocolate Rice Krispies, he was excited and eager to go.
Ryan was fairly nonchalant.
Being a second grader is much more grown up and attending school all day is mundane.
Micah wanted to go to school too until I told him he would have to use the potty to do his business.
He decided to stay home.

^^ Ryan (age 7) starting 2nd Grade, and Ezra (6) starting 1st Grade. ^^

^^ Ezzy is my social butterfly. He came home today talking of all the adventures he had with his best friends?! How he had time to not only establish intimate relationships with several members of his class in a single day, but also create memories with said friends is beyond me. ^^  

^^ See what I mean? Second grade has only just begun and we already have swagger. Somewhere between the floral combat boots and the friendship bracelets, my baby turned into a real grown-up girl. ^^ 

On an entirely unrelated note, I was organizing my filing container today and sifting through a lot of random documents when I ran across a receipt.
The paper was creased and tattered, and parts of it where illegible but what I stumbled upon was a bill of sale for the ring Scott gave to me when he proposed.
It was dated: September 3, 2002.
So exactly 12 years ago today, Scott was downtown Seattle buying me an engagement ring.
He was a young man (23) picking out a pretty significant piece of jewelry, everything ahead of him ... all those possibilities and dreams.
Isn't that a weird thought?
It's like you spend so much time, thought, and energy building a life you assume will unfold over a very long period of time, and then 12 years later, it's over.
I started crying and thought of what he looked like back then.
I ached inside while thinking of all the work we had put into our future, into each other, our family.
And I thought about how I missed being able to steal his socks.
They were really soft, stretchy, and much too big.
Now I am stuck wearing mine.
I thought about how we used to snuggle at night ... for about four or five minutes.
Then we would give each other a little pat and stretch out good and far apart in order to really get comfortable.
I thought about how his presence in my life brought meaning or context to my time.
I understood how I spent my days.
I knew that he went to work/school and I stayed at home taking care of our kids.
I am good at cleaning, and coordinating our family's schedule and needs, grocery shopping, and cooking.
I know how to do those things.
When he was a part of my life, I understood what my role was, what my responsibilities were, and didn't constantly dissect my purpose as a mother and wife.
Now all I want is to be those things, but I also think about having to be the breadwinner, the provider too.
And I think about it all day, every day.
It literally eats me up; all my brain power gets sucked into the same endless loop.
I have decided that is what I envy the most when I look around at friends and family.
The surety that comes with knowing what you should be doing with your time in order to move your family and life forward, where you fit in.
Anyway, it's something I am realizing I will have to navigate alone.
No one can decide for me what direction I need to be headed.
No one is going to call me up offering the perfect solution to all my problems.
I realized that I was praying about my situation and then waiting for an answer to appear in my lap.
But the answer is that I have to make a choice and then throw myself into it.
God has given me a brain and a capable body and plenty of blessings.
I don't believe that he would deny me personal promptings when I ask for help.
But he certainly isn't going to do it for me.
That is ass-backwards.
I am responsible for these three Pittlings and they are relying on me to figure it out.
I have also decided that I am still trying, so that counts for something.
I don't know how this novel got so heavy but I have been slowly coming to the realization that my life will only change when I start changing it, no matter how small the shift.
Sometimes I can be really dense.
And sappy.
I blame it on the first day of school.
I guess it isn't just kids that act out when stressed or unsettled.
Sorry for the rant.
Again.

Taking Stock Part 2

^^ Random shot of two babies sleeping together in undies. Don't get any misconceptions that Micah is potty trained. I assure you, he isn't. ^^

Remember this fun little game? 
It is an excuse to talk shamelessly about myself while claiming to be taking inventory of "where I am " in my life.
As if it is a huge departure from all my other posts.
"Exactly. She rattles on and on about herself all the time."
"I know, she is annoying and so self-centered." 
"Agreed. She belongs in a psych ward where she can talk to a professional."
"And she is unnaturally sweaty."
"Why is she always droning on and on about her lame life? She could just go to clown college for all I care."
"Or maybe to a nerd organizing convention, where people sit around smelling their own farts and talking about establishing order."
Annnnnnnnnnnyway ...
This is what I am ...
Making: duvet covers for my boys. I hand-stamped plain, white bedspreads with a cool, tribal print; which my boys didn't even notice. It was really satisfying. 
Cooking: baked blueberry french toast. It is delish, and so simple a pea-brain could make it.
Drinking: tons and tons of water. So refreshing. (And that factoid about the human body being 95% water is totally false. FYI.)
Reading: Heaven is Here by Stephanie Nielson. It's the true story about a woman who survived a plane crash but was burned on over 80% of her body. 
Wanting: a really good head scratch. Not a head massage, but a really vigorous itch. 
Looking: for dining chairs. Do I have a dining room? No. But I will someday, and right now that future dining room is chairless.
Playing: roller derby! I am legit! Like on a real team and everything. The Flat Track Furies are super fierce. They also use the term "butt hole" a lot, which is endearing. 
Liking: my newest edition of Glamour magazine. I am an avid reader. I have been a subscriber for, like, 13 years. How else would I learn how to remix my fall wardrobe? Or what the most frequently asked sex questions of 2014 are? These are important issues that I take very seriously.
Wasting: time reading about what the most frequently asked sex questions of 2014 are. I am not even having sex. Lame. 
Sewing: nothing. Anytime I need something mended, I beg my sister to fix it because I am an angry seamstress and I get frustrated every time I have to THREAD THE DAMN BOBBIN!  
Wishing: I could give my life a shake-up. I am ready to start my new course, but lack any concrete direction.
Enjoying: Outshine fruit bars at night in place of my normal dish of ice cream. I am sure it will pass. 
Waiting: on the list of a very fancy dermatologist. For an appointment. To meet with him. 
Wondering: if said dermatologist will be able to tell me when puberty will in fact be at an end and I can blossom into a real woman and have pimple-free skin and no mustache skin discoloration.

^^ There she is. ^^

Loving: my new car. I got a Volvo. It is a very sophisticated car and I feel like I should wear an ascot and have my monogram sewn onto all my linens. 
Hoping: Micah will wake up tomorrow and decide that it is time to poop in the toilet. And not in his underpants. Three times a day. (For the last month).
Marveling: at the jellyfish and octupi (octopuses?) at the Seattle Aquarium. My father-in-law treated us to a day in the city and the kids had so much fun!
Smelling: Scotty's cologne. Ryan sleeps with his sweatshirt every night and asks me to spritz some of his cologne on it again after it comes out of the wash.  
Wearing: vintage rocker tees with pleated skirts. To my very conservative church. I don't think people understand me there. 
Following: Instagram. Why the H wasn't I doing this all my life? It is so fun. And I look busy on my phone when waiting in line at the post office like everyone else. Except I am not checking texts or missed calls. 'Cause I gots no friends.
Noticing: how many things in my room need to be organized ... once it is 12:30 a.m.
Thinking: about too many responsibilities. I am on the fast-track to an ulcer. 
Knowing: that everything is going to be all right. I can feel it. In my ulcer.
Needing: my hair to grow FASTER. The awkward phase was so three months ago.

^^ Do you see my tiny piggies? Yeah, me either. ^^

Bookmarking: a random assortment of job listings. In my opinion, I would be an amazing event-planner/administrative assistant/legal secretary.  
Opening: all the back-to-school paraphernalia that arrives prior to the big send-off. T-minus two days! 
Giggling: as I listen to my kids laugh and talk in their sleep. Micah is literally chuckling all night in his bed.
Feeling: blessed. I have a healthy body and three awesome kids. Lucky me!

^^ Why did we discover legos on the last day of summer? They have been quiet for HOURS! *forehead smack* ^^

Me and my thoughts

My kids are in Seattle this week.
My in-laws, Scott's parents, have generously taken them for a few days so that I can recover my sanity rest.
As I have mentioned in possibly every single post previous to this one, I dislike being a single parent.
It is exhausting.
Well, parenting in general is exhausting, but doing it alone is as awful as growing out your hair from looking like Johnny on the Karate Kid.
It requires patience, a sense of humor, and a willingness to endure a lot of ugly.
I should know.
Growing my hair out is what I will be concentrating on for the next nine to twelve months.
And also parenting.
Well, I will focus on parenting longer than that.
Obvs.

^^ An actual picture of my hair. Hot. ^^

Anyway, my point is that I like to whine about how hard my life is now that I am flying solo.
And my hair is frightful.
That is why my posts have been so sporadic (my sucky attitude, not my horrendous hair).
And lest you think you are experiencing déjá vu, you aren't.
I have, in fact, already whined about this topic recently.
About how I feel I have nothing positive to say because I am spiraling.
I may have even said to my sister recently that, "My life is like hell."
Which might have been an exaggeration.
But it felt very accurate at the time; the time being four days ago.
I am getting very good at feeling sorry for myself.
I practice it daily.
I think maybe if I started working, I would feel like I was propelling my life in a forward direction and inching toward independence.
Which is the goal.
I had a priesthood blessing (which, in the LDS church, are prayers given by authority from God for healing, comfort, and encouragement) a short while ago that offered me assurance that God had not forgotten my struggles and I would not have to live my life alone.
I try to think of that when I want to, say, let myself go completely, stop showering, and then go out in public smelling like a Yeti.
I try to remember that my life has purpose and will continue to get sunnier.
And that it could be so much worse.
And that no one likes a Yeti.
p.s. Don't anyone go and get the wrong idea that this post was a cry for help.
I am not going to off myself.
I am just puttin' it out there.
All raw and shite.
p.p.s. I will try an muster up a more cheerful post next time.
p.p.s.s. If anyone knows of a great job, that say a single mother with a college degree could take, while still maintaining her dignity, just let me know, and I will ....uh ... pass it along.

Date #1

So I went on a date.
A real one.
It was the first one I have gone on in 13.5 years.
The last time I went on a date, Facebook, American Idol, iPods, and Justin Bieber did not exist.
Back then, everyone was getting lower-back tattoos and wearing chokers.
You could still walk freely through the airport and greet people directly at their landing gate.
It was a weird time.
Anyway, things are different now.
I am different now.
I am older (but in my opinion much better ... my eyebrows were unnerving circa 2002).
I have a lot of children.
And I am more comfortable in my own skin.
And this, consequently, is why I most likely scared my date.
He was very friendly.
He was cute.
He had nice teeth.
He was quiet. (I was not quiet.)
And was attentive.
He also bowled much better than I did.
Although, truth be told, I bowled like a granny and rightly deserved to lose.
It was fun to go out.
It helped me to realize that I am ready for this.
I want to date now.
I am done being a spinster at home darning socks and pulling out stray chin hairs.
It is time to get back in the game.
The only problem is that I seem to be the only one looking for a date in the entire thriving metropolis that is Eugene.
So here's where I shamelessly throw out a pathetic plea to all my peeps (we used this word back when I was dating, in the new millennium) to send all eligible bachelors, that are looking for someone awesome to date, my way.
What? You live in Utah? Colorado?
That's okay.
I am pretty sure social media was invented exclusively to bring strangers together.
I swear to Oprah.
Anyway, this post is getting very dumb and as soon as I publish it, I will accept my date's friend request and he will see what a lunatic I really am.
And then I will be back to wearing nipple-high pants, eating butterscotch candy, and putting doilies under all of my lamps.
Like an old maid.

Looking ahead

^^ I know, I know ... Saved By the Bell called and they want their bangs back. My hair is redonkulous. ^^

I yelled at my kids today.
Well, I yell at them almost every day.
I am not what you would call patient.
Or soft-spoken.
Or nice.
I talk to my kids like they are mini adults.
I understand that they are children and have the mental capacity of not-yet-fully-developed humans but I am not the babying type.
I love them, and take care of them, and teach them, and discipline them, but I don't coddle.
I think about those three hooligans all the live-long day.
I want them to be happy, well-adjusted, polite, productive.
But today I snapped.
I wanted to jump in my car and drive away, after peeling out.
It was in between the second and third time I had to wash poop out of Micah's underwear in the toilet.
I was tired and hot and they were fighting, again.
About Legos, no less, of which there are nine thousand.
Mathematically that works out to all three children having quite a few Legos each.
You know, if divided fairly.
They were also looking at and breathing on each other (which is apparently another reason worth fighting about).
I freaked out, sent them into the backyard, shut the door, and locked it.
They just stood right outside the french doors and stared into the house.
Micah pressed his nose up against the glass for good measure.
I ignored them and looked at People.com.
Single-parenting blows already, but it doubly blows in the summer.
On a somewhat related note: I declare it to be mentally draining to always be hoovering in limbo.
You wouldn't think that doing nothing would be so exhausting.
I also think that I have been feeling sorry for myself lately.
When I jump on Facebook or catch up on Instagram all I see are beautiful pictures of my friends and family living happy, fulfilling lives.
I hesitate to post anything to my feed because I don't feel like my life looks the way I want it to, or the way I thought it would.
I don't feel we do anything post-worthy and live kind of a weird in-between life, just waiting to get started.
I want to create a tight family unit that has its own traditions and personality.
Separate and not an appendage to someone else's family.
I want to be an adult and a parent and establish something special that is ours.
I feel like that could be something that I am proud of and would want to share.
Maybe that is why I have been so tight-lipped lately.
I am ready to move forward but it is as if my feet are stuck in the mud.
I am trying really hard to be happy in my life.
Sometimes it is easy and then sometimes it is work.
Today it was a lot of poopy work.
Tomorrow we go to the water park.
It will be better.

Micah is thrrreeee and my life has been shortened by at least a decade

Micah is THREE!
Unbeknownst to him, we celebrated a day early.
Of course, he doesn't really know anything in general so ... there you go.
Anyway, back to him being three.
How he survived this long is beyond me.
He has no sense of self-preservation and gets into all kinds of trouble.
Scott used to say if he weren't so adorably handsome we would have dropped him off at the fire station.
And then run away.
Because he is a maniac.
As I have mentioned in every single sentence ever written about him, he is very naughty busy.
Being his mother is exhausting.
I am stressed out just thinking about what will happen when he wakes up tomorrow.
He is quite bright and can navigate my new iPad better than I can.
And he loves cheese.
With all his three-year-old heart, he loves cheese.
He is very stubborn, which he inherited entirely from his father.
I am not that way at all. I am also telling the truth.
He is against using the toilet.
In fact, whatever the opposite of potty training is, that is what we are doing.
Un-potty training? Reverse-potty training?
He has mastered reverse-potty training and will, without regard, pee in every pair of miniature underpants you throw on him in record time.
So that is a fun little tidbit to remember.
He is however, my snugly-est baby and is definitely a momma's boy.
And not by default. He was that way before we lost Scott.
He is also the one that looks the most like me, so he is therefore my favorite for that reason.
Just kidding. I'm not.
He enjoys playing dress up (particularly tutus and necklaces; his father would be thrilled).
And he loves to watch music videos.
His favorites are Katy Perry and the a Capella group Pentatonix.
And a little Pharrell, just for versatility sake.
He can sing along with them all.
He is shy and takes a while to warm up to people.
And by warm up, I mean stop shooting you indignant looks and crack half a smile.
He loves church (and wetting his pants at church) and looks forward to it all week.
He also loves Ryan.
He cannot get enough of his big sister.
He follows her around relentlessly and/or asks where she is so he can follow her around.
It is sweet.
In fact, he is sweet.
He is intense and I love him so much I can barely stand it.
And now for 89 pictures.

^^ Showing us how old he is. ^^ 

^^ You cannot fake this kind of enthusiasm. ^^

^^ A manic grin as candle Number 2 is lit. ^^

^^ The center of attention as the he listens to his birthday song. ^^

^^ Blowing out his candles. Very gently. ^^ 

^^ I am not sure what this smirk is. I, however, look amazing. And so young. ^^

^^ With some of his spoils: a bubble gun and a Harley. What more could a man desire?^^

Happy birthday to my baby.
I love you, Micah.